


Heartfelt

by phoenixflight



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Chronic Illness, Companionable Snark, Established Relationship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 09:39:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16700014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/phoenixflight
Summary: “If I’ve got gray hair by the time I’m twenty five, it’s all your fault,” Bucky sighed. "So, was it worth it?"





	Heartfelt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badaltin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badaltin/gifts).



**Heartfelt**

“Hey.” Bucky poked his head into Mr. Horowitz’s office. “You done?” 

Steve looked up from the stack of invoices he was pouring over. “Almost. Just let me record Friday’s total.”

Bucky sidled over to the desk, looking down at the ledger over Steve’s shoulder. “You’ll crick your neck, hunched over like that,” he said, absently dropping a hand on the back of Steve’s neck.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve grumbled, but Bucky felt him melt a little as he squeezed Steve’s bony shoulders. “Bet you’d like it if I got a hunch back - that’d make you the handsome one for once.” 

Bucky huffed out a laugh. He wanted to cup Steve’s face and tell him he was beautiful, no sarcasm involved, tell him nothing would ever make him less handsome. But they couldn’t do that in the back room of Mr. Horowitz’s grocery. Instead, he said, “Sure thing, pal,” and dug his thumb into the familiar knot at the top of Steve’s spine. 

Steve swallowed a groan, leaning back into his hands, and slammed the ledger shut. “Let’s go home.” 

Bucky smirked. “Let’s.” 

Pushing back from the desk, Steve stood quickly and then swayed on his feet, face pale. 

Bucky grabbed his arms, steadying him. “Careful, champ.” 

Steve blinked and breathed slowly. “I’m ok,” he said after a moment.

“Did you drink enough water today?” 

“Yes, ma.” Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.” 

“Good.” Bucky released him carefully. “Cause I just spent all day long carrying boxes around and I don’t want to carry you home, too.” 

“So much for chivalry,” Steve bitched as he grabbed his coat off the hook. There was nothing much to do about Steve’s weak heart except crack jokes while dealing with it as best they could - doctors, when they could afford one, all shook their heads over him. His heart wasn’t strong enough to move the blood through his body - it left him prone to dizziness and fainting spells. Nothing to be done about it, the doctors said. The look on their faces was always the same -  _ this kid’s not going to make it. _ But Steve, the stubborn little bastard, was still proving them wrong.

Calling goodbye to Mr. Horowitz and Malachi, they stepped out onto the pavement, pulling their collars up against the biting November wind, and hurried toward the subway. The evening rush was beginning, but Mr. Horowitz’s shop was near the end of the Culver Line and they managed to snag two seats at the back of the car before it got too crowded. 

The jolting of the train rocked them together, and Bucky relaxed against Steve’s side, enjoying the steady bump of Steve’s shoulder against his; an easy closeness in plain view of everyone - a tiny, intimate public transgression. He slung an arm casually behind Steve’s shoulders, just getting comfortable, and Steve shot him an amused, knowing glance. 

The train shuddered to a halt at the next stop and people surged on, seats filling. A heavily pregnant woman and her gray haired mother shuffled toward the back of the car where they were seated. Bucky rose quickly, offering the young woman his seat and his second best smile - the one for married women. She nodded gratefully and sat. 

Her mother stood over her, clutching a large handbag, and glared at Steve. “Well young man?” she snapped. “Are you going to sit there while a lady stands?” Bucky grimaced, but kept his mouth shut. If there was one thing Steve hated, it was other people fighting his battles for him. “Where are your manners?” the woman continued. 

“Mother,” the pregnant girl murmured, cheeks red. 

“Now Cynthia, you have to learn to speak up, darling. It’s not right, a young man sitting while his elders stand. What would your mother say, young man?” 

Bucky winced, and felt a surge of dread as he watched the resigned, conciliatory expression slide off Steve’s face, replaced with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. It was an all-too familiar expression, usually followed immediately by Steve doing something stupid and stubborn. “Steve,” he began. 

“My mother’s dead,” he snapped, and stood abruptly. Far too abruptly. 

Bucky felt the familiar lurch of panic in his stomach as Steve went white, eyes rolling back in his head, and managed to get an arm around Steve’s shoulders as he toppled to break his fall. Bucky had nightmares about Steve getting up too quickly and cracking his stupid skull on something. Around them, people gasped and cried out. Bucky swore under his breath, lowering Steve to the rocking floor of the train car, and trying not to think about the filth they were both getting on their good winter woolens. Half a dozen people were gathered around them, looking down. The pregnant woman had her hands over her mouth, looking mortified, and her mother was pinch faced and red. 

“Stand back,” Bucky barked in his best stevedore voice. “Give him space, he’ll be fine.” Sure enough, Steve’s eyes were already fluttering open. Bucky felt his own pulse begin to return to normal. It didn’t matter how often it happened, Steve fainting never failed to make Bucky’s heart turn over. “Hey, champ,” he added softly. “Always gotta make a scene, huh?” 

Steve blinked groggily, and Bucky looked up at the older lady with the handbag. “My friend knows his manners,” he said pointedly. She flushed and looked away, and he felt a pang of bitter satisfaction. 

“Does he need a doctor?” someone asked anxiously. 

“My cousin is a nurse,” someone else volunteered. 

Bucky shook his head, waving them off. “He just needs some time.” 

At the next stop, people shuffled around them, Bucky leaning over Steve to watch for accidental feet. “Couldn’t have picked a better spot, could you,” he muttered in Steve’s ear as people stepped over Steve’s legs. 

“Sorry,” Steve mumbled, not sounding it. 

“Sure, pal. Think you can sit up?” 

“Yeah.” Steve curled his fingers in Bucky’s jacket as Bucky eased him into a sitting position. 

“Steady,” he murmured. 

“M’alright.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

Another passenger gave up their seat, and after Bucky helped Steve into it he spent the rest of the ride standing in front of him, swaying off the handrail, shielding him partially from the curious eyes of the rest of the train. The two women got off a few stops later, the pregnant woman casting them an apologetic look, and her mother carefully avoiding them. Silently, Bucky mouthed,  _ bitch _ , at her back, mostly to hear Steve snort with laughter. 

He kept an arm under Steve’s elbow as they got off the train, until Steve shook him off irritably. “I’m fine, Buck.” 

Tucking his muffler into his collar, Bucky raised his eyebrows. “So. Was it worth it?” 

“Yeah. It was perfect except I was out cold and missed the look on her face.” They stared at each other, and then both cracked into laughter. 

“It was amazing, I wish I could draw you a picture, Stevie.” Bucky slung an arm around his shoulder, turning them both toward home. “Like she’d swallowed a whole lemon.”

“Bet she’ll think twice next time she decides to tell someone off,” Steve grinned, leaning into Bucky’s side. “It was my good deed for the day.” 

“Yeah, yeah. All in the line of duty, huh?” Bucky squeezed him tight, and then released him, too aware of the others around them on the street. “Still wish you wouldn’t do it on purpose,” he sighed. “If I’ve got gray hair by the time I’m twenty five, it’s all your fault.” 

Steve bit his bottom lip and slid his eyes sideways, with a look so sudden and intent that Bucky stumbled a little on the uneven pavement. “I’ll make it up to you when we get home.”  

Heart beating fast, Bucky glanced down the block at their tenement building. “Then let’s go.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the antics of a friend who is the prince of do-not-try-at-home ideas, and is dedicated to him with love.   
> Comments are love! Follow me on tumblr at [ stillwaterseas](http://stillwaterseas.tumblr.com/) or at my [MCU fandom blog here](https://brklynboys-headcanons.tumblr.com/)


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